The Proceedings of the Old Bailey

 

114.   JAMES LITTLETON . was indicted for the wilful murder of   Mary Nicholls.—2nd COUNT. stating her name to be   Rachel Selway.

MR. ADOLPHU. conducted the Prosecution.

  SUSAN DAVIS . I am a widow. I lately lived at No. 2, Hampshire Hog-yard, St. Giles's—the upper rooms and the kitchen are let out to men and their wives—I knew the deceased—she told me her name was Mary Nicholls, but that was not her real name, it was Rachel Selway—the prisoner and the deseased lived together, and slept in the same bed—I slept in the same room—the deceased was thirty-one years old—she was in perfect health the night this happened—on Sunday evening, the 18th of October, she came home at seven o'clock, and remained in the room a few minutes, and went out again—I saw her come up stairs again about twelve or one o'clock—she was rather in liquor—I saw her, but really did not notice whether she appeared beaten or bruised then—she did not complain of any thing of the kind to me—she came to bed to me—after she had been in bed some time, the prisoner came in—I cannot recollect whether the door was open, or whether he had any difficulty in getting in—he came into the room, and commenced beating her with the broom-stick—he said nothing first that I heard—I had been in bed and asleep—she said, "James, don't beat me any more, I am innocent"—he said, "I will learn you to speak against me while I am in the country"—I said to him, "James, don't beat her any more, or else you will kill her"—he answered, "Mind your own business, what is it to you?" and then called her a b—w—, and told her she was a w—in her heart—with that he went and looked out of window for a few moments,

and then returned back again towards the bed—he then went down stairs, and went out for about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, he came back again, wrenched the leg from the table, and commenced beating her with that again on her head, and arms, and shoulder—she groaned and seemed as if she was insensible with the pain—she did not utter many words, and was faint from the blood she had shed, and altogether—she laid on the floor—she had struggled out of bed to get out of his way, and the prisoner asked me to lift her into bed—I said I had not got strength to lift her in—he lifted her into bed himself and I covered her over with the bed-clothes—the prisoner laid himself down, and slept on the floor—the deceased went to sleep, and so did I for some time—in the morning I awoke, and got up about seven or eight o'clock, and he took off his shoes and jacket, and laid down by the side of her—he asked me to get up and light a fire, and get some water to wash the blood from her face—I got up immediately, and said to him, "I wish you would get up, I want to look for some money to get her something, for I think she must be very faint"—she said she was very bad, and very full of pain—the prisoner said, "It is not half bad enough for you"—he got up and went down stairs to a young woman named Sarah Bradbury, who came up—he did not come with her—she went down again and fetched up some warm water, and with my assistance, and Grace Cons, we washed the blood from her face—we then got her out of bed, and changed her shift, which bad a great deal of blood on it—we had a hard matter to get her out of bed, because she complained of her arm, and we told her that Jem was comings—the prisoner returned into the room while we had her out of bed—she would not let us change her shift or any thing without his being present—he desired it, and then she consented to it—after that, we got her into bed again—somebody went to see for a doctor, but none came, and then Bradbury said they would take her to the hospital—the prisoner was in the room when she was taken to the hospital—I went with her to the Middlesex hospital—I did not go and see her while she was there.

Cross-examined by MR. CHANBERS. Q. What time did you go to bed on this night? A. Between nine and ten o'clock—I was rather in liquor when I went to bed, but went to sleep, and had got the better of that—I did not look at the clock when I went to bed—I go to bed about that time—I had lived in that room three weeks with the deceased alone, and one week with the prisoner—he broke the leg of the table off—I have never had any quarrel with the prisoner, never about a sovereign—there was a dispute about 8s. 6d.—when I went to bed at night I had 8s. 6d. in my pocket, and I said I thought he must have taken it, and no one else—I mentioned that to him on the Monday when the deceased was in the hospital, and on my telling him so, he told me to pack up my things, and leave the place, which I did.

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. Had you any acquaintance with him before you went to lodge there? A. I had seen him several times, but was never in his company, and had never spoken to him—I had no malice or ill-will against him about the 8s. 6d.

COURT. Q. Was the person you say was the prisoner, drunk? A. Yes.

  ELLEN SAUNDERS . I have lived with Thomas Saunders seven or eight years, but am not married to him—I live in the same house as the prisoner

and the deceased, in Hampshire Hog-yard. On Sunday night, the 18th of October, I heard the deceased come home—I was awoke by a noise outside my door by her and Grace Cons, who is my next room lodger—after some conversation between them, Cons with some difficulty persuaded her to go up to her own room—about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes after they had gone up stairs I heard some one else come in—I did not hear that person say any thing at the door of the room, but when he went into the deceased's room I heard his voice—I should not like to swear to the voice, but to the best of my belief it was the prisoner—I believe it was him—I should rather say it was him than that it was not.

COURT. Q. Did you know the footstep? A. I thought it was his footstep, but should not like to swear it—I believe so.

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. Did you hear any other man's voice or footstep in any part of the house that night? A. Not going up to the top of the house—I did not see him up there afterwards—the first words I heard when the man entered the room was, "Get up, you b—w—"—I heard no answer made to that, and afterwards I heard blows—I heard nothing else—after he gave her a few blows the same footstep came down stairs, and remained, to the best of my knowledge, about five or six minutes—I think he must have gone as far as the street-door—the same footsteps, as I thought, returned again, and went again into the room where the deceased slept—I heard the same words again, "Get up, you b—w—, get up, you b—w—, and tell me the truth, and I will forgive you"—I heard no answer made to that, but blows again—he came down stairs, and remained a little longer than he did before—he went up stairs again—the door was shut against him, I believe—he said, "Open the door, if you don't open it I will burst it open"—he got into the room, but I did not hear any answer, nor any body open the door—how he got in I do not know—after he got in he repeated the same words again, "Get up, you b—w—, get up, and tell the truth, and I will forgive you"—on his giving the blows the woman said, "Jem, for the sake of Jesus Christ (I think, but my memory is very bad) let me alone, Jem, leave off, Jem"—and the second time she said, "Shamus, for the sake of Jesus Christ leave off, and don't murder me," or "else you will murder me"—I do not know which—Shamus means James in Irish—I then heard another voice in the room say, "Jem, leave off"—I thought in my own mind that was Davis's voice—he said, "D—n your eyes, what is it to do with you? mind your own business"—I know no more about the matter—I did not speak to any woman in the house.

Cross-examined. Q. How long had you been in bed yourself? A. I do not know—I went to bed, I believe, between nine and ten o'clock—their room was at the top of the house, mine is on the first floor—they lived in the two pair front, not over my head—I believe there are two floors to the house.

  THOMAS SAUNDERS . I live with the last witness, but am not married to her. On Sunday night, the 18th of October, I was disturbed by a noise—I heard the footsteps of a man—in my judgment they were the prisoner's—he went up to the door of his room, and said, "Open the door"—I heard no answer, and afterwards I heard him say, "If you don't open the door I will break it open"—I heard no answer to that—I then heard a voice say, "You b—y w—, get up"—it was the same voice as I heard all along—I heard no answer—after that I heard blows—it sounded to me like a person beating another with a strap—it continued five or ten

minutes, to the best of my knowledge—I heard the same feet run down stairs again, and remain down stairs for about five minutes—I heard the same feet run up stairs again, and heard the same voice as before say, "You b—y w—, tell me the truth, and I will forgive you"—I heard no voice answer—I heard a voice say, "For the sake of Jesus Christ leave off, Jem," and again, "For the sake of God Almighty leave off, Shamus, don't murder me"—I then heard another female voice say, "Leave off, leave off, Jem"—he said, "D—n your eyes, mind your own business, what have you to do with it?"—I beard no more after that—I laid awake for more than an hour—I heard nothing more till morning after I got op—I did not see the prisoner or her—I saw him on the Monday evening, but had no conversation with him about the transaction.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you know him before that Sunday night? A. Yes, I had known him about six or seven months, but had no conversation with him for some time—I think he had been backwards and forwards at the house for about that time—I heard him converse sometimes, and I have conversed with him sometimes myself—I knew the deceased—I had not seen her that night.

  GRACE CONS . I am an unfortunate girl. On the night of the 18th of October I was not sober. I remember Mary Nicholls coming home that night, and taking her up stairs—she was very tipsy indeed—I took her up, and left her in the room—I did not see her into bed—it was between twelve and one o'clock—I heard no more of what passed in the night, but awoke about eight o'clock in the morning—I saw her then in her own room, in her bed—she complained dreadfully of being beaten, and seemed in great pain—when I took her up to bed—the night before she had no bruises about her head or face that I noticed, or recollect—when I saw her next morning she was bruised considerably—if she had been bruised the night before, as much as she was in the morning, I must have noticed it—she was taken to the hospital—I did not see her there—I cleaned the room on the Tuesday morning, by the prisoner's desire—I saw blood upon the sheets, about the size of the palm of my hand, in two or three places—I did not notice any more blood—I washed the sheets in my own room, and dried them out of window—they were put into the room again—they belong to the people of the house—I saw the deceased's gown after she went to the hospital, hanging up on a nail by the wall—I had not noticed it the night before, when I helped her to bed—the constable took it from the wall—there seemed to be blood on it—one broom served all the lodgers—I did not see that broom, or any part of it, after she was gone to the hospital—the last time I saw it was on the Sunday morning, it was then whole and fit to use—I saw the head of that broom afterwards at the police-office—it was the same broom as we used to sweep with.

Cross-examined. Q. Was there a Mrs. Jones lodged in the same house? A. No, in the next house—she used to use the broom as well as the others—I did not see her use it after the Sunday—a man named Jones lived with her as her husband—I did not hear of his beating Mrs. Jones till afterwards, but she was beat the same Sunday night, the 18th of October—I did not hear her crying out, "Don't beat me with the broom"—I have been in the room where the prisoner and Nicholls lodged—I recollect a table being there—I know nothing about the leg of the table being off—I often heard Mary Nicholls say she wished the table would stand upright—it used to stand in the corner—I never looked at the leg myself—I

saw Nicholls that Sunday night, sitting in the court, on the cold stones—that is where I took her from—I do not know how long she had been sitting there.

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. Did you ever see whether the leg was on the table, or one too short, or whether there was one on or not? A. No.

  SARAH BRADBURY . I live next door to where the deceased lived. On the Monday morning I went to the prisoner's room, to borrow a cup and saucer, and saw the deceased in bed—her hair was all over her face, her face all over dried blood, and she had a black eye—I asked how it came to be so—she said she was drunk, and it was a strange man that had done it—Ward was in the room at the same time—I washed her face—I found her head hurt, and cut her hair off—the prisoner came in—I said I would have a doctor, and he said, "Fetch a doctor"—I went for a doctor, but did not get one—it was at last determined she should go to the hospital, at the prisoner's desire—I said I would take her to the hospital—he said, "Take her, you shall have a cab"—he fetched a cab, and paid for it himself—I asked her in the cab to tell me the truth—she said it was a strange man—Ward, who is here in the name of Davis, said she had lost 8s. 6d.—Nicholls said, "Don't talk about your money now, mother"—she said nothing more about how it happened as we were going to the hospital—I saw her in the hospital as late as nine o'clock on Monday evening—the prisoner was there with me, and a policeman—that was in the afternoon, when two policemen took him to the hospital, and he asked Nicholls if he was the man who had ill-treated her, and she said, "No, you are not"—nothing more passed that I noticed—I went again at nine o'clock with the prisoner, to take some tea and sugar for her—he asked her bow she was—she said she was very bad—I asked how she was—she said she was very bad, and God bless me for bringing her there—the prisoner was there all the time, and the nurse—I should know the broom that we used to sweep with, and the table, which was in the prisoner's room.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you know Mary Nicholls? A. Well, for about twelve months—I do not know whether she was an Irish woman, she did not talk like one.

  JAMES HUTTON . I am servant at No. 2, Hampshire Hog-yard, and receive the rents. I saw the prisoner and deceased together on the night of the 18th of October, and they paid me my rent, which was 2s.

Cross-examined. Q. What time was that? A. As near as I can say, it was after twelve o'clock—it might be from that to half-past twelve—it was Sunday night—at that time they appeared to me to be very good friends—they were quite tipsy then—the deceased was more tipsy than I had ever seen her—the prisoner was tipsy too—he paid me the 2s. to make up the week's lodging—I saw the deceased a very few minutes after they paid me—I should say not more than three minutes after—I found her in the yard, laying on the cold stones—I lifted her on the stone step, and called Grace Cons to take her up to bed, which she did—I did not see her after that night—there is no street-door to that house—the street-door goes into the other house, called the men's kitchen, where the single men live—the door by which persons come into the house is shut as near as possible about half-past one, very little more one way or the other—there is no door to this house, you enter it from another house—I attend to both houses—I went to bed as near as I can say about four o'clock.

COURT. Q. What time was the door of the adjoining house closed? A. I shut it as I went to bed—I slept in the same house as the deceased.

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. At the time you saw her was she bruised all over the face, or had she a broken arm, or any thing of that sort? A. All I saw was a blow on the cheek-bone, it was a little swollen, but not particularly—it was under the eye, swollen, but not a black eye.

  GEORGE JOHN RESTIEAU . (police-constable E 49.) I took the prisoner into custody on Thursday, the 22nd of October, after the deceased was dead—I found in his room the deceased's gown, which has blood upon it, and I found this leg of a table in the room, and this jacket—it was smeared with blood—I received the broom-head from Hutton—there was no particular mark on that—I found the broken table, which the leg fits—it was placed under it to hold it up against the wall—it was quite fresh broken—I have known the deceased seven or eight years—she had very dark hair indeed.

Cross-examined. Q. There was a handle delivered to you was there not? A. No, only the broom-head—there was a handle in the broom, but not the one which is spoken to in this case—it was a fresh one—I took the handle out of the broom-Hutton delivered the broom and handle to me—when I went to inquire if there was any stick belonging to the broom—they said no, but he had put a fresh handle into it—I took the fresh handle out of it in the presence of Hutton.

  JAMES HUTTO . re-examined. I got the broom-head from the deceased's room—it had no handle to it—I found it near the fire-place-when I delivered it to Restieaux there was a handle in it—it was not the handle which had been in the broom before the Sunday.

  WILLIAM GUMMER . I keep a chandler's-shop at 22 1/2, Buckeridge-street, St. Giles's, about five minutes' walk from the prisoner's, He came to my shop on Sunday night, the 18th of October, between twelve and one o'clock, for something to eat—he had a stick in his hand, apparently like a broom handle—I shut my shop up about half-past two—he staid about half an hour—he bought some meat, and I lent him a saucepan to carry some small beer in—about an hour and a half after he was gone, I kicked against something, which I found was a broom handle—it was on the other side of the counter, in the middle of it, where he had stood—I do no recollect having any customers after him, but there was one Roger Kelly there while he was there—I did not see him with a broom-stick—he stood on the other side of the prisoner—I did not see a broom-sack in Kelly's possession, but I saw one in the prisoner's possession—it was about three-quarters of a yard long—I observed a crack six or seven inches from the end—there was some blood on it, and some hair sticking to it—was like human hair, and was black—there were some spots of blood on it—I chucked it under my counter, not knowing it was of any consequence—on Monday I was boiling my pot, and put it under it—it was all burnt in the fire.

Cross-examined. Q. What was it he had in your shop? A. Some meat—he ate part of it, and took the rest away with him.

JURY. Q. Was the prisoner sober or drunk? A. He did not appear to me to be drunk—I did not take particular notice of him.

  JOHN GUMMER . I am a son of the last witness. I remember a broom-stick which was found in the shop—I do not know what became of it—I saw some hair on it.

  ANN GUMMER . I am the wife of the witness. He showed me a broom-stick—I observed it was covered with blood, and there was the hair of a human being on it—it was quite dark hair—my husband burnt it.

  WILLIAM KIN . (police-constable E 89.) On the morning after the deceased was ill-treated, I took the prisoner into custody, and took him to the Middlesex Hospital—I saw the deceased there in bed—I asked her in the prisoner's presence if he was the man that ill-treated her—she said, "No, he was not"—Wright, my brother constable, was with me, and the nurse was there—I do not know her name—the deceased said the man that ill-treated her was a strange man, dressed in a round blue jacket, and cord fustian trowsers—I asked the prisoner if he knew that woman that laid there—he said no, he did not know her—I said, "Well, then, we may go back to the station-house"—he told me to stop a minute, and he directly went up to her bed-side, took hold of her hand, shook hands with her, and kissed her—he then came up to me again—I told him I thought it was very strange that he should go and kiss a woman lying in that state that he did not know—we then went out of the room, and as we were proceeding to the station-house, he said he wished he knew who it was, it would be a bad job for them if he did—I told him I thought it could not signify to him, as he did not know the woman—he said he had never said so, and utterly denied saying so at the hospital—when we reached the station-house, I stated the particulars to the Inspector on duty, who said there was not sufficient at present to detain him, and he was let go.

Cross-examined. Q. Where had you taken the prisoner from? A. From the house where he lodged, in Hampshire Hog-yard, No. 2, I believe—I found him there—it was the same day the deceased was taken to the hospital—the woman's face was very much swollen, and her head bandaged up—I cannot say whether it had been shaved—the prisoner was the worse for liquor—it appeared to me as if he was recovering—he was not sober—it appeared the effect of drunkenness the night before—the liquor appeared dying within him.

  JOHN WRIGH . (Police-constable E 128.) I went with King and the prisoner to the hospital—I saw the deceased in her bed—she appeared badly used, having bruises about the face—very much bruised—King, I, and the nurse went to the bed—King asked her if she knew the prisoner to be the man who ill-treated her—she said, "No, it was a man with a blue jacket on"—the prisoner had a waistcoat and sleeves on at the time—I thought it was a blue one, but I recollect now it was a black one—King asked the prisoner if he knew the deceased—he said, "No"—he asked him a second time, and he said, "No"—the prisoner then passed King, went up to the deceased, held his head down and whispered to her—I cannot say what he said—I heard a lisping voice from her lips, and he kissed her twice—I saw the deceased's lips move, as if there was some conversation between them—I did not make any observation to him—King said we had better go to the station-house—the prisoner said, "Oh, you can do without me"—King said, "No, you must come with us"—he was let go—he has not on now the waistcoat which he had on at the hospital—I know nothing about this one.

Cross-examined. Q. Was it in one of the wards of the hospital that you found the woman lying? A. Yes, on the ground-floor—I was standing at the foot of the bed—King stood about the middle of the bed, and

the prisoner stood between me and King—then he pasted King, and went up to the deceased.

  ANN SHAW . I am a nurse at the Middlesex Hospital. I remember the two policemen and the prisoner coming to see Mary Nicholls on the Monday—she was in bed in the ward, ill—I saw her when she was brought in—she was in a very bad state—she had been beaten very much about the head and body, and her left arm appeared to have been beaten—I heard what passed when the policemen and the prisoner came—before he got up to the bedside she said he was not the man, bat previous to that a woman had been in talking to her—I do not know that woman—I saw her the day the deceased died—I asked the deceased how it was done, and she said it was done by the handle of a broom and the leg of a table—she said it was done by a strange man—she did not describe how he was dressed—when she said the prisoner was not the man he stooped down to kiss her, and I said, it was very strange he should kiss her if he did not know her.

Cross-examined. Q. How long have you been nurse there? A. Three years—the woman had her head shaved, and her lace was strapped up and swollen.

  WILLIAM RICHARD OXFORD . I am house-surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital. I remember the deceased being brought in—I observed a severe contused wound on the scalp, and a wound on the right cheek, two wounds on the head, and one on the top of the left ear—they were all contused wounds—there was a hair pin stuck in between the scalp and bone, as if it had been driven in by force—I extracted it—it did not penetrate the bone—her face was very much bruised and swollen, and also her left eye, she could not see out of it—the wounds had, no doubt, bled—there was a slight quantity of blood trickled down the cheek—the left arm was very much bruised and swollen, and the upper part of the arm very black, and one of the bones of the left fore arm fractured—it was the larger of the two bones—the right arm was also much bruised and swollen, but not so much as the other, and there was a compound fracture of the right little finger—both sides of the chest were much bruised and black—the pulse could not be felt because the arm was so much swollen—they were such injuries as could be inflicted by blows from a stick or piece of wood—I attended her till her death, which was on Wednesday, the 21st—I attended the post mortem examination—on opening the skull there was no particular appearance, no effusion between the membrane and bone, but at the surface of the brain the vessels were very much congested with blood—the chest was next opened—the left lung was very much congested, and there was adhesion to the membrane lining of the chest—the right long was slightly congested, not so much as the left—the adhesion denoted old inflammation, not recent—the heart was quite healthy—the liver was very much enlarged, and had a nutmeg appearance, which is peculiar to persons drinking ardent spirits—the other organs of the abdomen were all healthy—there was an effusion of coagulated blood on the muscles covering the outside of the chest—I attribute her death to the injuries received—she died from exhaustion of the vital powers.

Cross-examined. Q. Was it necessary to make a post mortem examination to ascertain the cause of death? A. I was desired to do it by the Coroner—I did not think it necessary—I formed my judgment after death, before I examined the body at all, either externally or internally—injuries of that kind, being so severe, were quite sufficient to cause death—I apprehended danger from the first, from the whole of the injuries together—the

wound in the scalp alone was quite sufficient to cause death—I do not mean to say it must have done it—that wound went on favourably to the last—there was a slight disposition to slough—there must have been more sloughing than I saw, to produce death—I am certain the wounds on the head alone were not the cause of death—the vessels of the brain are congested during intoxication—the fracture of the little finger and the breaking of the large bone of the arm would not of themselves cause death—the wounds on the cheek and left ear would not cause death primarily—they might produce erysipelas, but it was not produced in this case—it might in a bad patient—on the whole, with respect to the wounds, she was a good patient—she had one small dose of morphia on the first night—she had none on the second night, because it was not necessary to give it her, on account of the head—symptoms might have been made worse probably—the opium did not deaden the powers of life—it at first produces a stimulating effect, and afterwards a sedative—it caused her to sleep at first—on the following morning after the sleep she was better—a very large dose of opium will produce great prostration of strength, a small dose will not—the effect, of course, depends on whether the patient is accustomed to take it—one accustomed to it would not feel the effect of a slight dose—a slight dose to one not accustomed to take it would not deaden the powers of life—she had two drachm doses of liquid opium—she was much better on the Tuesday—she appeared better on Tuesday night—I thought every thing was going on favourably, but at half-past ten or eleven o'clock next morning I took off the dressing of the head, and observed the pupil of the eye very much dilated—she had been delirious during Tuesday night.

Q. Now the exhaustion of the vital powers of which she died might have been produced by a person of drunken habits falling down, and lying on the cold stones, might it not? A. That depends according to what length of time she laid on the stones—when she was brought in she appeared a good deal exhausted and cold—lying on cold stones on a cold night would be very likely to produce death—but she recovered from the effect of cold three or four hours after she was admitted—it might paralyze although she rallied, but it did not in this case—I never saw a case where a person received such a shock, rallied and then sunk under it—the liver had the appearance of that of a person who drank very freely—the system of persons who drink very freely sinks much sooner—they cannot stand the shock which a healthy person can.

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. You have been asked whether each wound separately would produce death, but might the wounds added together produce death? A. Yes, I have said so—I do not mean to say any one wound separately caused death, but that collectively they did produce death—I attribute death to that, and not to lying on the cold pavement—except from the blows and injuries she had received, I firmly believe she would have been alive and well at this moment—had she died from taking opium, that would have been evident on post mortem examination.

  SUSAN DAVI . re-examined. (Looking at several articles produced by Restieaux.) This is the deceased's bonnet—this gown belonged to her, and this broom was in the room—we used it to sweep with—she was in perfect good health the day before the blows were inflicted—I left the house on the Monday night—I did not see the prisoner till Thursday morning, when he sent for me—as soon as he saw me he said, "Mother, this is a bad job"—he used to call me mother—he said "My life lies, or is dependent in your hands, and I have no money"—I said, "Nor have I"—

he said to Sarah Bradbury, "Go and fetch her bonnet down stain"—she did so—he said, "Give it to mother, it will do for her to sell—it will fetch her a shilling or eighteen pence to get her a bit of victuals and pay her lodging"—I took the bonnet from him, and left him—he said nothing further about that—he said if I would keep out of the way it would be all the better till after the Coroner's inquest—I then took the bonnet and left him—this is the same leg of the table.

Cross-examined. Q. What did you do with the bonnet? A. I took it home with me—I lodged on the Monday night in the kitchen under Mr. Gummer, who has been examined—the bonnet was kept and found in the kitchen—I do not know by whom—I left it there when Restieaux came and took me out of bed on the Friday night—I was taken up and put in the station—I remained there from Friday night till Thursday morning, nearly a week, except going up to Hatton Garden and to the Coroner's inquest—I was kept in the station—I slept there, and went occasionally to the next house to have my meals—I saw the bonnet as I was going to Hatton Garden, it was brought to the station by one of the policemen, I think Restieaux—he did not ask me any questions concerning this—I was in the station when the bonnet was placed on the table to go up to Hatton Garden—I had left it in the kitchen, not in the care of any one—I never wore it at all after I had it—Sarah Bradbury was present when I had the conversation with the prisoner—I did not take away any plates and dishes—there were some—I do not know what became of them.

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. Was any charge made against you, or were you kept there to be produced as a witness? A. There was no charge made against me—I was kept there as a witness, and for safety—nothing was done to me, but I was examined as a witness.

  SARAH BRADBUR . re-examined. I was present at a conversation between Davis and the prisoner—I heard him say, "Mother, Mary is dead"—she said, "I hear it"—he said, "As for your 8s. 6d. I know nothing about it—I never saw it"—she said she bad no money, and did not know what she should do for her lodging, for the landlady would not trust her—he said, "There is her bonnet," and asked me to go and fetch a bonnet in a paper-bag—I went and brought one down in a paper-bag, but I had never seen it on the deceased's head—I heard no conversation between them about Davis's appearing—all I heard was about the money and the bonnet.

  SUSAN DAVI . re-examined. Bradbury was present at the time of the conversation with me about not appearing against him—there was a light in the bed-room at the time this matter happened, a candle and candlestick.

  JOHN GARRAWAY . I keep the King's Head public-house in Monmouth-street I know the prisoner and the deceased—I saw them in my house on the Sunday before her death—they came in about six minutes before twelve o'clock, and appeared friendly and on very good terms—they had no words there at all.

Cross-examined. Q. I believe he treated her to a quartern of gin? A. Yes, they came in again about ten minutes after twelve o'clock and had another quartern.

GUILTY. of Manslaughter. Aged 27.— Transported for Life.

Third Jury, before Mr. Recorder.